


The Fall Out

by mogitz



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Future Fic, Healing, Reconciliation, Sad, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:46:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mogitz/pseuds/mogitz
Summary: Synopsis: A decade has passed since the night of terror on Mount Washington - a night that defined them all and sent them spiraling in different directions - Jessica is a struggling, broken, single mother. Ashley hides out in the hipster haven of Portland. Sam has never stopped running. And everyone just wants to forget. So, when Josh asks them all to join him for a reunion, they'd be crazy to accept the invitation. Right?





	1. You Are Here - Josh, Ashley, Chris

**Author's Note:**

> Genre: Drama/Romance  
> Timeline: Post-Game Events, 10 years in the future  
> Deaths: Emily  
> Survivors: Everyone Else, +Josh  
> Pairings: [Josh/Sam][Ashley/Chris] Possibly more.  
> Rating: T  
> Chapter One: You Are Here.

 

* * *

 

_**Joshua Washington - New York City, New York - January, 2025** _

The poised, brunette woman greeted him from her chair, sitting directly across from him. Josh leaned back in his seat casually. He was at ease; this certainly wasn't the first time he'd been in front of the cameras.

She cleared her throat, turning towards the teleprompter as the director counted down.

"- 4...3... _2 -_ "

"The son of a successful, award-winning director. A family plagued by tragedy and scandal. And yet, amidst the pain and the loss, the _ultimate_ story of triumph. You know him as the popular self-help speaker whose lectures are among the most popular on both Ted Talks and Youtube… Joshua Washington, thank you for joining us today."

"Thanks for having me," he replied evenly. He could felt beads of sweat attempting to pool at his hairline from the direct heat of the lighting. He reached over to the side table, stealing a quick sip of his lemon water. The ice cubes rattled in the glass.

"Trusting that a lot of viewers already know who you are, I'm just going to jump right in. You were already somewhat in the limelight growing up, what with a famous father and all," she began right away, not bothering with any more formalities. Josh glanced behind them - on a giant monitor, pictures from his youth flashed. Some were with him and his dad, some with him and his sisters. He forced his eyes back onto Janelle.

"But the incident that took place in 2014, when your sisters went missing, and then the horrific events a year after… would you say that's what really put you on the map?"

Josh opened his mouth but paused. He knew better than to answer without thinking first. It had already gotten him in a lot of trouble in the past. The media _loved_ to twist his words. It was a fickle beast. Over the last ten years since the incident, he'd learned to think before speaking.

"Well, I mean… I would say everyone has those moments, you know, in one way or another. Moments in your life you can let define you. Really nail you down as a person. I was headed down a very strange path at that time. As I've said in some of my lectures… grief is by far the scariest, most dangerous monster there is. It can twist your mind and make you do things you never imagined you were capable of, in both positive _and_ negative ways. You, as a person, make a choice to attack it in many different approaches. I used that experience and the aftermath as a totem. I let it veer me into a different direction. One where I could take that huge, crushing, ball of grief and use it to better other people's lives."

She smiled, glancing down at her notecard, "and you _have_. After your inpatient care, you went on to get your masters in psychology by the age of 27. Meanwhile, you created an incredibly popular self-help vlog with over _20 million subscribers_ on youtube. And now your book, _Monster in Me_ , is a New York Times bestseller." She tucked her hair behind her ear, leaning forward. Josh could tell she desperately wanted to be Diane Sawyer one day. For now she was just pretending. "So, tell us. What does the future look like for Josh Washington? Any plans for taking a break? Maybe starting a family?"

Josh mulled on that for a quick moment. He usually _only_ focused on his future, since his present was basically a whirlwind of video blogs, lectures and book tours. This interview was the first he'd had time for in months. When he got home and wasn't surrounded by colleagues… it was actually quite lonely. He had a girlfriend, Lana, but she was an actress. She usually wasn't even in the same country as him.

He cleared his throat, took in a sharp breath. He made it a point to stray from anything personal, so he dodged the question and focused on work.

_Always move forward._

_Keep moving forward._

"Well, my non-profit organization, _Reach_ , has been incorporated in hundreds of schools across the country now. It's designed to target troubled youth, specifically kids that are at risk for undiagnosed or misdiagnosed mental disorders. It acts as a liaison to get them the help they so desperately need. You know. The help I never got."

"What was it that not getting that help cost you?"

"Well, my sanity, for one. But… I also lost a lot of good friends."

"It's hard to imagine _anyone_ not liking you, Josh," she chuckled lightheartedly. Josh's eyes darkened. It was true - his media persona was somewhat loved and revered around the world… and yet he knew of at least five individuals that still hated him with burning intensity. Every time he thought of them his chest tightened. It made him feel like a fraud, preaching about goodness and redemption, but never seeking it for himself.

"You'd be surprised," he mumbled, taking another sip of water.

"What do you mean?" He gave a menial shrug.

"One of the most important aspects of healing is making amends with those you've wronged in the past. I'm ashamed to say I haven't followed my own advice, in that respect."

"Are you talking about those victims on the mountain that night?" she mused dramatically. Josh's head fell back with a silent, ironic laugh.

"Those _victims_ were also some of my best friends."

"You don't speak with them?" she pressed. Josh shook his head lightly.

"No, not really. I still speak to one; my best friend. But that's about it."

"Your family was really tied up with lawsuits after what happened that night. Would you say that's part of why you haven't reached out to any of them?" Josh folded his lips, taking in a quick breath through his nose. He shifted in his chair a bit, fidgeting with the arms. He cleared his throat.

"They had a right to seek out what they felt they were owed. I am not sure it was all that fulfilling, the money. I'm sure it helped. But I don't think that's what they were searching for."

"What do you think they were really wanting?"

"...Probably what anyone in their position deserves. An apology."

* * *

_**Ashley "AJ" Jo Smith - Portland, Oregon - Powell's Bookstore - January, 2025** _

Ashley danced down the thin, towering aisle of books. Florence & the Machine poured from her headphones into her ears, drowning out her thoughts. She browsed the titles, slipping a few books in between others and continuing on her way with her cart. She rounded the corner, slamming into a tall, bearded hipster in the Botany section. His book on "Bonsai Tree Grooming" fell to the ground.

"Oh my gosh, I'm _so_ sorry!" she gasped, snapping her headphones from her head and resting them on her neck. "I-I wasn't paying attention, are you alright?" He smoothed his shirt, pushing his black-framed glasses up his nose.

He reminded her of _him._

Although, _any_ guy in glasses like those seemed to do that to her, no matter how much time had passed.

"It's okay," he smiled politely, his eyes lingering on her for longer than she was comfortable with.

"Are you finding everything okay?" she asked him, her cheeks warming with a bit of a blush.

"Uh, yeah. I can't seem to find... your number?" he said coolly.

Ashley snorted, loudly and abruptly. And instantly wanted to die of embarrassment. She could tell he was taken aback by her strange reaction, but she just adjusted her beanie on her head of fiery hair.

"I _think_ that's in another section," she smiled, pushing past him and moving quickly back to the safety of her cashier's counter.

Ashley sighed a long sigh. It wasn't the first time she'd been hit on at work but that didn't matter - no one even felt... _right_. She'd dated. But she seemed to have a hard time connecting with people or letting herself get close to others. She just knew it would always snowball into a place where they asked about her past and… that wasn't really something she liked talking about.

Her life before Portland didn't matter, anymore. Too many bitter memories.

"Hey, AJ. Where's a good place to take my boyfriend?" Her co-worker Jonah asked. It was still strange answering to that name, since she'd dropped " _Ashley_ " the moment she moved to town, fueled by a desire to lose herself and become someone else entirely. She peeked over him; he was leaning over the counter, staring absently at his computer monitor, and skimming popular Portland tourist spots on the internet.

_Buzzfeed's TOP-6 Spots you HAVE to Visit in PDX!_

Ashley rolled her eyes. Stupid 'articles' like that were why Portland had such a population surge over the last few years. Which, of course, was why the cost of her apartment rent had shot up at least 50% in the last two years.

"He's never been here. He's from Quebec so he's _suuuuper_ French and I don't want to let him down."

" _Ummm…_ " she shrugged a bit, thinking on his question. She wasn't quite sure what Jonah's boyfriend being French had to do with it, but _she_ loved it here. Portland was the _best_ decision she'd ever made. The whimsy of this hipster city seemed to really suit her.

" _Obviously_ Voodoo Donuts is a must," he started, confidently. She scoffed and his confidence shook, " _No?_ What's wrong with Voodoo?"

"Ugh. C'mon, Jonah. Could you _be_ any more _cliche?_ Have you ever even been there?"

"Well, _no_ , but-"

"Believe me. Don't waste your time. The line is long and the donuts?" She paused, looking around and leaning in like she was letting him in on a secret. "Are _not_ that great," she whispered.

" _Really?_ " he breathed dramatically, as though what she divulged to him might have blown his mind.

" _Totally_ overrated," she nodded.

Jonah's shoulders slumped and Ash figured she should cut him some slack. He'd only just moved here, but she'd been here a good 10 years now. Still, she felt the need to add, "oh and if you say 'Saturday Market' next, I might _really_ have to murder you."

Jonah laughed dryly, shaking his head.

"God, you are such a Portland snob. Weren't you a transplant, too?" he accused. Ashley shrugged again. She needed to steer the conversation off of her.

She could still remember the day she left so clearly - although she didn't want to, anymore. On a whim, glaringly aware that she couldn't be with Chris in her current state, she'd packed up everything her suitcase could carry. Which really wasn't much. But as she packed she realized she didn't have a lot to begin with.

She still thought of Chris all the time. She was haunted by him. She thought she'd seen him everywhere since - on the tram, in cool dive bars, in the faces of strangers. And she always felt a pang in her heart everytime her eyes scrutinized the doppelganger and deduced that it wasn't him.

And a part of her wished she'd seen him one more time so the last image of him that was burned in her mind wasn't his hopeless, tearful eyes as she told him she couldn't do it anymore. It was a cold, rainy day and she was still cloaked in a black dress she'd worn to her father's funeral.

The day he decided it was a good idea to ask her to marry him.

"What?" she'd breathed as he knelt by her childhood bed, holding out a ringbox. Mascara and tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared at him in awe - but not for the right reasons. Because he was clearly grasping onto her, desperate to keep her as he felt her slipping away from him. She'd just buried her father and he knew she was coming unglued… and this was his solution.

"I mean it," he told her, a knot in his throat. She could see it hovering above his Adam's apple. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

" _Now?_ " she squeaked, unable to hide her ire. "You ask me this right _now_ , Chris?"

She stood, pacing the room and clawing her fingers through her hair. She didn't want to look back at him - surely it would break her heart to see his confused, heartbroken expression.

"I mean… I know this probably isn't how you pictured it but, Ash-"

Ashley was beyond relieved that her mother interrupted the moment. She told him they'd talk about it when they got home, but a part of her now realized she'd already made up her mind.

"Just… I dunno, Jonah," Ashley snapped at her friend now, overcome with emotion she didn't care to carry. "Take him to the Multnomah Whiskey Library, the Grotto, and then end your night at the Academy Theatre," she spat off quickly, changing the subject. Jonah instantly went to google, and Ashley went back to sorting books.

* * *

_**Christopher Bennett - Tokyo, Japan - January, 2025** _

The city seemed alive.

The city _always_ seemed alive - a bright, bustling, _busy_ metropolis that appeared to stretch on forever. Chris' favorite part of the day was the coffee he enjoyed on his _tiny_ balcony of his _tiny_ apartment - in fact, everything in Tokyo was tiny. Miniature, doll-like versions of apartments and cellphones and gadgets.

He'd thought it was going to be enough for him, living here among the most tech-savvy, brilliant minds in the world. When his boss told him about the position - Chief Technical Officer at Yamagato-Tolko Industries - he'd leapt at the opportunity. He was practically a shoe-in; no one else wanted to relocate to Japan from New York.

 _Sure_ , he didn't know Japanese. And yeah, he didn't even know anyone in the country - not even the continent. But something about that was oddly refreshing. It was a new start, an _adventure_ , one he didn't know he'd longed for so badly until the career move presented itself.

In Josh's seemingly infinite wisdom (and uncanny ability to crawl into Chris' mind), he'd accused Chris of running away. At the time, Chris had been dragging his feet through a long engagement with his post-college girlfriend, Alia, and this was the _perfect_ way to thoroughly end it. The career-oriented, headstrong woman would never up and leave with him for the far east - she was an editor for a New York-based magazine. Her life was _there_. She told him, under no uncertain terms, that he needed to make a choice… she didn't know he already had.

"You're afraid of getting close, you know that?" Josh had told him. "You've been this way ever since-"

" _Don't_ even say her name," Chris warned. Josh smirked at the instant shut down, shrugging and picking at his blueberry scone.

"You're gonna have to talk about her one day…" Josh mumbled.

Chris merely scoffed, changing the subject by telling Josh he was just trying to stop him from going to Japan because he'd be lost without him. Josh shrugged again, admitting that _may_ be true, but also pitching the idea that maybe, just _maybe_ , it wasn't an adventure he was seeking. Maybe it was a _person_.

A particular redhead, perhaps?

Chris had been here now for a year. He only knew the bare minimum of Japanese, and in the whole year he'd lived in Japan, he'd traveled to more countries for work than he could count. He'd seen Italy, Germany, Quebec… he'd even been to Indonesia and South Korea.

Maybe Josh was right.

Maybe he _was_ running.

Or maybe he was searching. Searching for home.

Searching for _her_.

He still remembered the last time he saw Ashley so vividly, whether he wanted to or not. Her eyes were glossy and dark circles pooled under them. She was exhausted. Stressed. Frustrated.

He remembered the pain in his chest when she told him through tears that she couldn't look at him without remembering that night - that her therapy wasn't working. That she needed a fresh start, far away. That Chris remaining friends with Josh throughout his treatment felt like a _betrayal_.

And that she didn't think she could do it anymore.

"I love you, Chris. But I'm _just_ not strong enough-" she'd cried. Chris just held her, begging her to reconsider - that there was nothing they couldn't get through _together_. Their entire origin was a testament to that alone.

"Then come _with_ me," she tried, her fingernails digging into his arms as she clung to him. " _Leave_ this place with me. We can start a new life somewhere, away from this. Away from _Josh_ -"

"I _can't,_ Ash. You know that. My whole _life_ is here. I can't just leave it-" Ashley didn't interrupt him - he stopped himself short when he saw fire flash through her ember eyes.

"You can't leave _him_ ," she accused, barely above an injured whisper.

He didn't correct her.

They laid down on opposite sides of the bed that night, but neither of them slept. One of Chris' biggest regrets was that he didn't spend the whole night memorizing her face or taking in the scent of her, because when he got home from class the next day, Ashley's drawers were empty and her suitcase was gone.

It took him longer than it should have to really register it all, and when he did, he couldn't seem to catch his breath. He leaned against the wall, slumping down, his head resting in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair and clenched, trying to choke back a sob but failing.

All he had left were their pictures on the wall, her ring on the dresser, and a note that promised she'd be back. She just needed to figure some things out.

But she never did come back like she said. And he never even got to say goodbye.

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	2. You Are Here - Jessica, Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies for all the angst. But not really. I love it.
> 
> But yeah, it's ending up WAY sadder than I intended. Stick with me, guys. It gets better. Thank you for all the amazing reviews already, I adore you!

* * *

 

**Jessica** _**Stein - Little River, Kansas - Millie's Diner - January, 2025** _

Jessica's feet hurt. Her back ached. She'd been fighting a cold all week. She should be home in bed, nursing herself back to health… but single moms couldn't _take_ sick days.

Well, maybe some could.

But _she_ couldn't. She'd already taken too much time off around the holidays and she just couldn't take the pay cut… the electricity bill was already way overdue.

" _Shit_ ," she muttered to herself, silently reminding herself she needed to stop by the Midwest Energy office on her way home to make sure she even _had_ electricity when she got home. Just yet another thing on her neverending _to-do_ list. Maybe they'd take pity on her and let her do another partial payment, just to keep it on a little longer.

So here she was, midway through her _second_ shift at Millie's, pushing through. She blew the loose bangs from her face as she topped off Martin's coffee. He folded down his paper and looked at the poor girl with concern.

"You feelin' alright, Jessie?" his gravelly voice croaked at her over the clinging and clanging of the dishes. She wiped her nose with her tissue, clearing her hoarse, itchy throat.

"Just allergies. It's fine." Martin narrowed his eyes at her skeptically before glancing over his shoulder to peer out the window. It was incredibly cold and icy, even for January.

"Allergies in the middle of winter, eh?" Jess just sighed and smirked in acknowledgement. _Caught_. She pulled two plates off the counter and walked them over to another table. The elderly couple sitting in the booth looked equally concerned.

"Jess, just go home! You need to take better care of yourself," the old man suggested.

"I can't, guys. I appreciate it, I really do. But I've already taken too much time off and Jake's birthday is coming up. I want to get him somethi-"

" _Jess!_ " Her boss' bellowing voice interrupted her thoughts, making her spin around quickly and nearly drop her coffee pot. He stared at her with a gruff expression. "Phone." She hurried over to him as he began to scold her, "what did I tell you about personal calls-" but she waved him off and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Stein? This is Annie Watson, Director of _Grow With Us_ Daycare-" Jess tensed and wiped her forehead with her dishrag.

"Yes, hello Annie. I-If this is about Jake's tuition check, I swear I just put the money in my account, the check will be good by tomorrow-" she started to ramble, her hands shaking.

"I'm afraid that's not the reason for this call." Jess gripped onto the pale, pink phone as tightly as the fear that now gripped her heart.

"Is it Jake? Is he okay?" Her eyes swept the entire diner; all of her patron's worried eyes were on her. She turned away from them to give herself a little more privacy.

"He's fine," Annie told her, "but I'm afraid you're going to need to come pick him up." Jess' throat tightened, her face growing hot. She glanced up at the clock. It was barely 3:30 pm and she still had three more hours of work. She _couldn't_ leave.

"Um… Th-the doctor said he's not contagious anymore. If he's running a fever I put some Motrin in his bag-"

" _No_ , Ms. Stein. There was a situation here between Jake and another child. He threw a toy block at the boy's face and it's looking like the other child is going to need stitches-"

"What!" Jess practically shouted.

"You need to come now so we can discuss whether this is the best place for Jacob anymore." Jess' mouth fell open, a million things running through her head. How did this happen? Where was the teacher when this happened? And more than all that... Why would her son do this?

Instead, she meekly replied, "I… I understand. I'll be there soon."

When she turned, her boss was standing nearby, his arms crossed and his face less-than-thrilled. He knew what she was about to say before she could even say it.

"Larry, I'm _sorry_ , I just… I gotta go get Jake-" She stepped toward him, but he held up a hand to halt her.

"I just don't think this is working anymore, Jessica," he sighed, shaking his head sadly.

"What?" she choked.

"You're always having to take time off, I need someone who is going to be here-"

"What are you talking about?" Jess exclaimed, frustratedly. "I'm _always_ here, Larry! I practically _live_ here!"

"Look, it's nothing personal, you're just not reliable-" Jess found herself begging and it made her feel utterly pathetic. She lowered her voice, trying not to look at all the customers who were watching everything unfold.

"Larry don't do this," she said lowly through gritted teeth. "I have a _son_ -"

"Oh, _c'mon_ ," he groaned, rubbing his fat hand against his stubble. "Don't, don't do that. I've got a business to run. You _know_ I've been good to you, Jessie. You'll pick up more hours at the Piggly Wiggly." He was referring to her second job at the grocery store across town - the one she hadn't told him she'd gotten let go of a month ago. "Pretty young thing like you should have no problem. You'll land on your feet."

Then he left her there, dangerously close to crying. Her arms slipped behind her back as she undid her apron. No one spoke, just looked at her with sympathetic eyes. She noticed that Martin was gone now; he must have left sometime during the firing. She walked over to clear Martin's dishes in a daze, unsure why she was even bothering. She didn't work there, anymore.

As she picked up the plate she saw he'd left money for his meal… as well as a note.

' _Chin up, Jessie. You're gonna be just fine. - Martin'_

Beneath the note was a $100.00 tip - _just_ enough to pay off her electricity bill.

A few hours later, Jessica pulled into a parking lot, disappointed to see an empty building.

"Shit!" Jessica yelled, then covered her mouth with her hand.

"Mom!" Jake gasped. She forgot he was in the back seat.

"I mean, _shoot…_ " she corrected quickly. She stared at Midwest Energy Office… which had closed fifteen minutes ago. She leaned forward, resting her head against her steering wheel and trying everything in her power not to cry.

It had taken too long at the daycare. She didn't make it in time. In the past two hours she'd been fired, Jake had been kicked out of daycare, and she was now sitting on a fat emergency room bill from Jake's run in with his classmate - four stitches above the kid's eye.

"Mama, are you mad at me?" Jake's tiny voice asked from the back seat. Jess took in a wavering breath, sitting up and wiping her eyes before looking at his little, curious face from the backseat.

"No, Jake. I'm not mad at you."

"Are you crying?" Her eyes averted from his to her own in the rearview mirror reflection; faint scars traced up her face, down her chest. A reminder of the worst night of her life. She took in another breath, a stronger breath, and let it out slowly. This was _nothing_. She survived hell. She could survive anything.

Jess turned in her seat, facing Jake, who just stared back at her sadly.

"Jake, why did you hit Connor in the face with a toy?" she asked him. He shrinked in his carseat, shrugging. "No. Don't say I don't know. Why did you do that? I thought Connor was your friend."

"He was mean."

"How was he mean?"

"He said I don't have a daddy." Jess closed her eyes, her breathing remaining steady. How on earth would a four year old kid even _know_ something like that? Of _course_ Jake had a father… just not one who was in his life. And yes, child support would be so helpful in circumstances like this. But the stubborn part of Jess didn't want to share Jake with _anyone_ \- particularly someone who clearly didn't even want him. She felt like she was spending her whole life convincing everyone she could take care of the two of them… she was starting to really doubt that, anymore.

"You know, you should be nice to your friends, no matter how mean they can be," Jess scolded lightly, and without meaning to her thoughts veered toward Emily. Her best friend… although, they really didn't seem like it in the end. She thought of all the horrible things they'd said and done to each other. How much she'd hurt her when she stole Mike from her. About how she never got to make things right before… before…

"Can we go home now, mama?" Jake asked her. Jess silently nodded and made the slow, short drive back to their tiny apartment.

Sure enough, the lights were off when they walked in the door. And so was the heat. She ushered Jake inside, ripping her shut-off notice off the door and crumpling it in her palm.

" _Mooom…_ " Jake started, timidly. He didn't want to venture too far into the apartment. "It's dark."

Jess swallowed and held back a shudder. She _hated_ the dark - in fact, she was terrified of it, now. Ever since that night. And she wasn't entirely fond of the cold, either. Her heart thumped in her chest wildly as she hurried over to the cabinet, pulling out some candles and matches. She watched as Jake puffed out steam.

"Mom, I can see my breath!" he laughed happily, emitting another puff of smoke. He jumped in the air, trying to capture the cloud in his gloved hands. He crooked a tiny eyebrow and watched curiously as Jess began planting candles around the apartment. "Turn on the lights, mama."

"They're… they're broken," Jess told him, feeling a little more at ease with every candle illuminating the room just a little more. "We're gonna have fun, don't worry," she assured him.

Jess made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while her own stomach gurgled. She didn't know when she was going to get to the grocery store, so she only made one for Jake. He tore into it, the two of them dining by candlelight. She watched his features flicker in the light from the flame, jelly staining his cheeks like a cheshire cat smile. He looked up at her, his dark blue eyes wide and worried - they carried far too much for a four-year-old-boy.

She felt tears sting her eyes and nose. _What_ was she _doing?_ She should just go home, back to her father's in California. But that would take admitting that she made a mistake moving back here - to her hometown. She'd left right after her final surgery to fix the scars that were never really fixed. She'd only lived out in California to be with her rich father, but when she couldn't cope with the trauma and he didn't know how to be there for her, she moved home to Kansas to be near her mother, instead.

And when her mother passed away, she'd never found her way back. Then Jake came and… she couldn't believe this is what her life was, now.

"Mama, where's yours?" Jake asked her, once again worrying too much for his young heart. And Jess just shook her head, forcing a smile.

"I'm not hungry, little man." Her stomach growled, giving her away. Jake knew better. He reached over, setting down a napkin in front of her, followed by the other half of his sandwich.

"We can share." She just stared at the white bread and wondered how she got so lucky to have such an amazing little guy. But who was taking care of who? She didn't know anymore.

Jake crawled onto her lap, nuzzling in close, as his little fingers traced along a deep scar near her collarbone, "you're pretty, mama," he whispered. She squeezed him even tighter to her. "Sing the song." Jess' face winced as she held back a sob, terrified she was going to scare him. She could never let him see her break down - he needed to feel safe, no matter how scared and broken she really was.

She sniffled, wiping her tears away, and beginning to rock him back and forth.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," her voice cracked, "you make me happy when skies are gray."

She paused when she heard him humming along and she choked back another cry that wanted to escape. She leaned down, pressing a kiss into his hair and resting her cheek on his head, "You'll never know dear, how much I love you…"

"...Please don't take my sunshine away," he finished for her when she couldn't. He looked up at her through thick eyelashes. "I love you, mama," he said, and with those words, Jess couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She had to do better. She had to give him the life he deserved.

* * *

  _ **Samantha Jensen - Rio de Janeiro, January, 2025**_

Sam's mouth tasted stale, her head throbbed.

She woke up on the beach. Dozens of sleeping bodies surrounded her, the aftermath of an impromptu party from the night before. She looked down the length of her body to see a stranger's hand draped over her waist… she was ashamed to admit this wasn't the first time.

Shimmying out of the phantom's grip, she sat up and cradled her aching head, smacking her lips a few times to wet her dry mouth. She searched the sand to find her phone buried beside her, disappointed to see that it was dead - she groaned quietly, wobbling to her feet.

Sam looked around to try to see if anything around her looked familiar - it didn't. She wasn't even sure where her motel was. All she saw was the pink, purple and blue awakening sky, stretching on forever over a calm, beckoning sea.

It was warm out already - Sam hadn't seen a winter in years. She'd made it a point to chase the sun, no matter where it led her… and sometimes it led her to some not-so-great places where she made not-so-great choices.

One of those not-so-great choices was in her hand now. She held the cigarette between two fingers and chipped fingernail polish, lit the tip and inhaled, staring out over the ocean. As felt the waves hit the sand at her toes and drench the bottom of her skirt, she couldn't help but think about just how tired she was. She was 28 now and she'd never had a home, never settled down. Her life was on the road, singing in dingy bars, traveling from country to country and she was _exhausted_.

She thought about walking right out into that green, swirling water and never coming out again; turning to sea foam and becoming a part of the ocean, just like the end of the Little Mermaid, the real one that wasn't so happy.

Because happy endings didn't exist in Sam's world anymore. The prince didn't awaken the princess with a kiss and ride off into the sunset.

There was only this. Empty, beautiful moments that meant nothing anymore.

She looked down, the water at her knees. The wind gently blew her mess of curls and her vision was blurry from tears.

What was stopping her from ending it all, right now? Who would even miss her, when she'd worked so hard to leave every person who'd ever cared for her?

Sam stopped walking, feeling her phone vibrate in her hand - which was odd, since when she'd just checked it moments ago it had been dead. She held it up and looked at the alert: _1 New Voicemail_.

She held the phone up to her ear and listened. A woman's voice started off the message, telling her that she was receiving a call from Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility and Sam knew right away that the message was from Mike.

"Hey Sam…" he began, sounding slightly winded and tired. "I hope this is still your number. I'm sorry I… I guess didn't know who else to call. You're the only one who stayed in touch with me and-" he paused, a long sigh sounding off on the other end. "Anyways. I know this is a lot to ask but… I'm getting out next week and I was wondering if you could come get me. I understand if you don't want to but… I don't really have anywhere to go."

Sam felt a knot forming in her throat, her eyes burning. She hadn't heard from Mike in ages, but she'd made it a point to send him postcards and letters whenever she'd remembered to. He'd called her a few times in the time he'd been locked up. Had it really already been ten years?

"I miss you, Sam. I hope you get this. I'll try you again soon."

She hung up, feeling her lungs expand with a gasp, suddenly realizing she was up to her chest in water. What was she _thinking?_ She turned frantically, pushing against the resistance of the water to get to the beach where she fell to her knees, breaking down into full sobs when she thought about what she'd almost done.

In all honesty, she'd felt this low before, but only once.

It was right after they'd been rescued that night, back on the mountain. Everyone had made it out… except for Josh and Emily. And it was already haunting her, even then.

They were at the hospital, waiting to get checked out, and she hadn't been able to stop crying. She was dizzy and aching and something just felt... _off._

"Ms. Jensen?" the nurse called her back.

But it didn't sound right. Her words were wavery and underwater. Sam stood, but she wobbled on her feet. Her fingernails dug into the receptionist counter beside her, trying to hold herself steady. She tried to look up at the nurse, who was now hurrying to her worriedly, but Sam could hardly see her now. Darkness was closing in around the edges of her peripheral. She felt a low, achey pain her in abdomen and her hand instinctively clutched at the soft, pillowy skin below her bellybutton.

"Ms. Jensen, are you alright?" the nurse asked again. Sam felt caring hands upon her, helping to hold her up, but the voice felt so far away. She was clammy, a cold sweat pooling at her hairline. She tried to nod, but then realized she _wasn't_ alright she instead tried to shake her head. She's not sure if she's doing anything at all, at this point.

"We need a doctor!" the voice called. Another painful ache, growing and growing and then subsiding.

Sam sat back down in the waiting room chair, her head falling back against the white wall of the hospital waiting room. It felt so heavy, as though it'd been filled with concrete. Sam heard a rushing and rustling of people around her, nurses no doubt.

Then, she felt an odd sensation between her thighs, and her first concern is that she might have wet herself. Her clothes hadn't yet fully dried from being in the mines.

But Sam reached down, slowly bringing her hand up to try to see what the strange substance is. The last thing she saw was her own hand, covered in blood. Then everything went dark.

She came to a while later, sitting in complete shock in a small examination room.

_Miscarriage._

" _What?_ " Sam hissed out, but she wasn't listening to the doctor re-explain. She heard the first time.

' _No,_ ' she thought, ' _no no no no, there's no way-_ '

She counted back. Five weeks. _Minus_ two… for 'gestation'.

But she didn't _have_ to do the math - she would be lying if she said she hadn't already thought it was a possibility over the last few days, she'd just been too scared to take a test. She'd simply pushed it from her mind when her breasts hurt on her last run - must have been the wrong sports bra. She assumed she was just experiencing normal fatigue when she'd recently begun taking naps - something she _never_ used to do.

Yet she didn't really know how to explain being able to smell the mud puddle many yards in front of her on campus… that was new.

"-but unfortunately the pregnancy was not viable-"

She listened in and out, and before she knew it her eyes were brimming with tears. She angrily wiped them away with her forearm, but when she looked down, her other arm was protectively cradling her stomach - even though there was nothing to protect anymore. She let herself wonder for a moment if deep down she _knew_. That her protection of this life inside of her was what brought out her will to survive that night.

"-not uncommon, what with the stress of everything you just endured, as well as the strain on your body-"

The tears kept falling. The doctor kept explaining. She took in a choppy breath, looking up at the bright, fluorescent light of the hospital room and silently scolding herself for being so damn emotional about it.

This was stupid - crying like this. _Insane,_ even.

She was only 19-years-old, of _course_ she didn't want to have a baby. Especially when the only person who could possibly be the father was apparently a complete psychopath.

A complete psychopath who, only less than 12 hours ago, she was in love with.

A complete psychopath who, as she could only assume at that point, was dead.

She choked back an audible sob and felt a hand squeeze her shoulder. She glanced sideways; Ashley was there, biting her lip nervously, her own tear-filled eyes watching as the doctor continued telling them what had happened. She wouldn't look at Sam. It wasn't because she didn't care. It was because she knew how much Sam hated to cry, hated to look weak in front of others.

She wasn't looking at Sam because she knew it was what Sam needed.

In a rare moment of Sam's life, she was glad she wasn't alone. Her hand gripped onto Ashley's and squeezed. _A thank you._

"-gonna need a follow-up. These things can be traumatic, not just to your mind, but your body as well. We'll want to make sure your future reproductive abilities aren't-"

Sam leaned her head on Ashley's shoulder as she continued to cry. The doctor asked if she is in any pain. She shook her head without words. Not _physically._ But this seemed to be wreaking havoc on her heart.

She tried to make sense of it all. In a way, she knew it was a blessing.

So... why was she so sad? How could she mourn something she never even knew she had?

Sam picked herself up off the sandy beach, feeling herself breathe for what felt like the first time. She couldn't do this anymore, couldn't keep living this life. She needed to get back to the states. She knew no matter how alone she felt, she at least had _one_ friend left - and she would be there to pick him up next week, no matter what. 

* * *

_  
To Be Continued..._


	3. You Are Here: Matt, Mike, Chris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up longer than I expected. Enjoy! Also, posted without one more read thru - will edit later.

 

* * *

_**Matt Baker - San Bernardino, California - January, 2025** _

Matt waited at the gas station much longer than any sane person would.

He knew she wasn't coming, even though it was supposed to be _his_ weekend. Still, he had to be sure. He checked his phone for the millionth time. No missed calls. No texts. Nothing explaining why she didn't even bother to show.

They didn't have set a custody plan with the court, so there really wasn't anything he could do. And that killed him the most. Pushed to almost the point to tears, he punched in her number angrily, ready to leave a scathing voicemail. To his surprise, she picked up on the third ring.

"Angela… _where_ are you?" he rattled off quickly. His heart was thumping in his chest. He hadn't been expecting her to actually answer.

" _Matt_ ," she began, warningly. As though she were annoyed. Like him wanting to see his daughter was _such_ a burden to her.

"Are you seriously not coming? _Again?_ " His blood ran hot, he clenched and unclenched his fist. He couldn't _believe_ this would now be six whole months since he last saw his daughter.

"Matt. I _tried_. She didn't _want_ to come."

"Bullshit, you tried. How hard could it be? She's five years old! Put her on the phone-"

" _No_. She's getting ready for school. And either way, I wouldn't put her on the phone. Not when you're like _this-_ "

"This is my daughter we're talking about, Angela! Put Maya on the phone _now!_ "

"Matt, you need to get ahold of yourself," she demanded, her tone beginning to match his own.

"You have no right to keep her from me! If you're not here in an hour I swear to God, Angela, I will-"

"Matthew," she cut him off calmly, but firmly. "Don't you _dare_ threaten me. I'm not going to let you bully me, and I'm certainly not going to let you bully _her_. "

There was a long silence and hot tears formed in his eyes - he didn't know why he was this way. He _wasn't_ always this way. But somewhere along the line, losing his career and his family and depending on a drink ' _to take the edge off_ ' a little too often, Matt didn't even recognize himself anymore.

"I miss her," his voice cracked. His knees and body felt weak, like they wanted to give out altogether. All he wanted was to hold his daughter. He knew so many single moms who would give anything for their child's father to give a shit, and yet here _he_ was: being denied his own daughter.

There was another long, pregnant pause on the other line that said so much. And then a sigh.

"We'll try again next weekend, Matt." And then the call ended.

Matt threw his phone frustratedly across the parking lot, various concerned people watching him or hurrying by.

"What are you looking at!? Do I _amuse_ you?!" Matt screamed at no one in particular, running his hands down the length of his face and trying to get his heart rate down. He was beyond furious now, his vision blurred and his head throbbing.

His first instinct was that he needed a drink… but no. Not this time. What was that going to solve? _Nothing._ He needed something more than that. He needed a break. He calmed as much as he could and went to collect his now-scuffed and cracked cellphone. This was the third he'd broken in the last three months, either out of drunken clumsiness or anger. He was thankful it still worked, even if it had seen better days.

Matt was _tired_ of being so angry. For as long as he could _remember_ he'd been angry.

He'd curbed it at times, but deep down he'd always felt this crushing, unexplained guilt and it made him agitated and defensive. And then there just came a point where he couldn't curb it anymore - and the facade of who he was, a married, happy father, started to crumble.

The day Angela left him was the day he lost everything. He'd gotten a second DUI in a matter of a few short months and it was her last straw. She left to wake him up, make him realize what he was losing.

But instead of reflecting or getting the help he needed, he went to work drunk, got in a fight with his boss and took it out on all the computers (with a baseball bat) in front of the whole office - everything he'd tried to build was torn down in a little over 24 hours.

But wasn't that way most things happened? All at once? Maybe in one night? The truth was, he hadn't been the same person since he came off the mountain back in 2015. He'd spent so long being the good guy, and for what?

They all could have died that night. But no. Only one did. And not by some horrifying creature or some deranged psycho, no.

By a misunderstanding. And he wasn't there to protect her. He carried that on his shoulders much more than he would admit, and it lived deep down in him, shaped him into this monster.

He reckoned that the anger inside of him began when she died. He and Jessica were found and brought into the police station for questioning. The others were already there - well, _most_ of them.

"Wh-where's Emily?" Matt asked when he didn't see her among the friends. Sam slinked down into her chair and Ashley immediately began to sob. He broke away from the police officer who was leading him to the interrogation room. All that kept running through his head was that she died when the tower fell. When he couldn't get to her in time.

' _I was right there, and I could have done something - I tried to do something... I wasn't good enough.'_

He took ahold of Sam's shoulders. She looked lethargic and beat up, but if anyone would tell him the truth, it was Sam.

"Sam, where is she? Did she make it?"

"Matt, man… just… leave her alone," Chris tried, resting his hand on Matt's shoulder, but he tore himself away.

"No, where is she? Did they find her? Is she in the mines?"

They all looked between each other, but a terrible feeling washed over him when their eyes reluctantly and nervously fell to Mike, who appeared to be in a trance.

" _What_ did you _do?_ " Matt practically growled, his jaw clenched and his teeth gritted. He lunged toward him - he had no idea how he knew, but he had no doubts that Mike knew what had happened to Emily.

Before he could reach Mike, the officer had intervened and continued taking Matt to the other room, all the while Matt was calling out, "why won't you tell me what happened? Where is she?"

"She was shot," they told him not long after and his stomach swirled.

"What?! She was _what_?! Is she okay?!"

"We recovered her body with a gunshot wound to the head-"

Matt's mind raced - it had to have been _someone_ , not _something_. He'd seen those things, those monsters. He knew there was no way they were sentient enough to pull a trigger. It had to be a mistake, a-an accident-

"No. _No, no no._ No, no it doesn't make any sense. It was someone else, it had to be-" he began to ramble.

"When was the last time you saw Emily?" Matt's thoughts were foggy; the words just repeating over and over again: She was shot.

And he wasn't there to protect her. If he'd just reached her on the tower, she never would have ended up back at that lodge, in the line of fire.

It came out not long after that it was Mike. And then he found out that with the testimonies of their "friends" and some hard work from his hot-shot lawyer, he only ended up getting ten years - _ONLY TEN YEARS!_ \- for _murdering_ Emily.

Oh wait, wait. ' _Manslaughter.'_

Because it was _all_ just a misunderstanding. Because Mike thought he was _protecting_ them, and they all testified to this! Matt stepped out of that courtroom feeling cheated. And he _never_ spoke to any of them again. And he _never_ would.

Somehow in his rage-fueled memories of exactly where his life went wrong, Matt found himself standing outside of Maya's school. He hesitated going in. Paced a few times in front of it while he weighed his option but, no. If Mike could get away with murder, he could get away with seeing his only daughter.

"I'm here to pick up Maya Baker. I'm her father, Matthew Baker."

The secretary in the office looked nervous. _Skeptical_. But as he handed her his ID, there was nothing she could do. This was one way not having a custody negotiation actually benefited him - they couldn't stop him from picking up his own daughter. Not without a court order stating that he couldn't.

"Let me just check with Mrs. Baker-" She stopped when Matt's hand smacked down on the receptionist desk. He leaned in, not really caring how insane he must look. Desperate men do desperate things.

"I want… my daughter. _Now_." She stared him down for a moment before silently nodding. She pulled out Maya's file - sure enough he was still on the approved pick-up list. There was nothing she could do. Matt wrang his hands together in anticipation, wondering why he'd never thought of this sooner.

"Mrs. Moon, can you please send Maya Baker down to the office with her things, she is going home for the day," the secretary said into her phone, never taking her eyes off Matt. He scoffed at her reluctance - if he were Angela there wouldn't be any kind of a fuss. That thought alone just made him even more furious inside.

Regardless, he swallowed it down. His heart was racing at the mere thought of getting to see Maya again.

" _Daddddyyyy!_ " Maya squealed when she saw him, her little legs carrying her over to him as she collided into his waist, wrapping her arms around him. Matt's knees buckled and he was on the ground, gripping onto Maya tightly.

' _Maya didn't want to see you, my ass,_ ' he thought, but the anger melted away the moment he got to hold her. She pulled herself away, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I missed you so much," she said with a pout, her lips wrapping around every syllable. She was still so little, but seemed so much bigger somehow. She wasn't a baby anymore - she looked like a little girl. He'd missed so much in the time she was kept from him.

But _never_ again.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he took her hand and quickly led her away from the school's office. He hadn't thought that far ahead - he couldn't take her to his apartment, Angela would surely find them there.

"It's a surprise," he told her, hoisting her up and carrying her outside when she started lagging behind. He needed to get a good head start - he had a sinking feeling the secretary in the office was calling Angela at this very moment. He needed to get on the road, gain some distance.

He buckled her into the booster in the backseat of his car, pressing a kiss into her forehead and jumping in the front. He had no idea where he was going to go, but wherever it was, it was better than here.

* * *

_**Michael Munroe - Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility, San Diego, California - January, 2025** _

He went in at summertime.

It was just his luck they'd let him out in the dead of winter with only the clothes he'd come in with. Because when was the last time things went right for Michael Munroe? He couldn't even remember anymore.

He waited for her out in the cold wearing only a t-shirt and jeans. And she was _late_. That was the first indication that Sam had changed - the Sam he used to know was _always_ on time. Not that he could complain - at least she was coming at all.

He kept thinking about what the guard had said after giving him his belongings (which merely consisted of 32.00 cash, a very expired credit card, a pack of gum). As he handed Mike the box he eerily quoted Hotel California: " _You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave._ "

At first Mike just brushed it off. Stupid lyrics to an old song.

But as he stood outside the prison that had been his home for the last decade, he realized there was some truth in that. He might be getting out, but he wasn't sure he would ever really leave. He'd been there for the most important years of his life. Ten _whole_ years when he should have been dating and going to school and starting a career. For manslaughter. For pointing a gun at his ex-girlfriend in a moment of sheer panic and pulling the trigger.

"This is the safe room, Em!" he'd shouted.

" _Please_ ," she'd begged, cowering in front of him, clawing away from him. As though _he_ were the monster.

"It's not safe as long as you're in it. Not for us."

" _No!_ "

"I'm so sorry."

He couldn't remember anything more, other than the fear he felt and the fear in her eyes. Then the _bang_.

Emily was dead. Because of him.

When he really let himself reflect on that fact, he wanted to walk right back in through the gates and tell them to lock him up and never let him out again. He didn't deserve to live out the rest of his life when he'd cheated her out of hers. And for what?

He heard the rumbling of an old Camaro pulling up - red with a white stripe down the hood. It rolled over to him and it was Sam in the driver's seat - a little older, messier, but still unmistakably Sam. She gave a weak smile and waved, and Mike opened the door, leaning down.

"You're late," he told her. She leaned back in her seat taking in a long drag of her cigarette. He never thought he'd see the day that Sam Jensen became a smoker.

"I know," she replied shortly, moving a few of her belongings off the seat beside her.

"Is this your car? Never figured you for a Camaro kinda girl." She rolled her eyes.

"Just get in, Mike."

Mike turned to look at the prison one last time, a big gray mass under a cloudless, cold, blue sky. Surrounded by miles of desert. He mouthed a silent goodbye and slipped into the passenger seat. Sam's foot hit the gas almost immediately, lurching the car forward and far away from the last 10 years of Mike's entire life.

"Where to?" she asked him. "We can go _anywhere_ in the world. _Anywhere_ you want to go." Mike thought about that and instantly choked up.

He was free. Maybe not _really_ , and maybe not inside his own mind, but for now… he was free.

"I could _really_ use a burger about now."

\- - -

"You look great, Sam," Mike told her between giant bites of his cheeseburger. He couldn't believe how _good_ it tasted. She just smirked at him from across the table, her finger lazily tracing the rim of her water glass.

She _did_ look great - not like he remembered her, but she was still gorgeous as ever: Tan with wild, unkempt curls. He could see a few braids mixed in. Her eyes were lined with dark, black eyeliner. He'd never seen her with makeup in high school - at least not anything obvious. Not even for prom. She was always so earthy and natural.

Now she wore short, cut-off jean shorts, boots and a low-cut shirt. Which was insane for January. But he wasn't complaining.

For a moment he wished she _didn't_ look so good. His mind wandered to places he didn't want it to, merely because it had been ten years since he'd talked to a woman who didn't wear a badge and a correctional officer uniform.

"Refill?" The suddenness of the waitress appearing made Mike jump. He shook his head, unable to make eye contact with her. He wasn't used to this just yet - if someone interrupted you at dinner back in prison, it was usually the beginning of some kind of altercation.

"No, thank you," Sam finally answered after a moment, and Mike was thankful, since he looked like a complete lunatic.

Sam's phone began to buzz on the table in front of them - it wasn't the first time. It had already rang plenty of times since she had picked him up. Her hand snapped forward and she silenced it, like she had every time before.

"Whoever that is, they really want to get ahold of you, huh?" Mike mused, hoping to get her to open up _just_ a little bit. She hadn't said too much since they'd been together. Sam sat up straighter, sliding the phone off the table and into her purse.

"Who gave you the tattoo?" she asked, shifting the conversation. Mike looked down at the cross on his chest, peeking out from the neck of his T-shirt.

"Oh… one of the guys in there was a tattoo artist. He gave it to me in exchange for two packs of cigarettes-" Her purse began to vibrate, distracting Mike from what he was saying. Sam just clutched the purse to her chest tighter, ignoring the quiet purring. "Uh… anyways..."

Suddenly Sam ripped into her bag, yanking out the phone and bringing to her ear. Mike could hear shouting on the line, but Sam instantly yelled into her end, "stop calling me, dickhead! You have the _wrong_ number-"

" _Fuck you Sam! I want my fucking ca-_ "

She abruptly ended the call before dropping her cellphone into her glass of water. Mike just stared at her in confusion. Sam was _definitely_ not the girl he remembered. She folded her arms over her chest, her eyes darting to the door and back. She looked antsy.

"Can we go?" she snipped. Mike looked down at his partially eaten burger. "Like… now?" she added.

"Uh… _suuuure_."

Sam slapped a $20 on the table and Mike picked up the rest of his meal with his hands, bringing it along with them.

Sam said nothing for a long time as they drove through the cutting black of night. Mike was starting to wish he'd called someone else to get him - but who? He couldn't bring himself to ask his mom to come get him from prison. He really had no one.

After a while she pulled the car over to a rest stop overlooking a deep, wide canyon. She silently got out and slammed the door shut before climbing up onto the hood of the car. Mike nervously unbuckled his seatbelt and joined her.

"You… you alright, Sam?" he asked her, timidly. She glanced at him sideways for a moment then quietly began to laugh at her own foolishness. She shook her head, groaning into her hands.

"Ugh… I'm fine," she said once she'd gotten composure. "You must think I'm completely _insane-_ "

"What happened to you?" Mike climbed up beside her. Sounds of the desert echoed around him and he realized this was the first time he'd seen the moon in longer than he could remember. A coyote wailed far off in the distance.

"Nothing," she said quietly, then shrugged. Her eyes slowly found his, "and _everything_." Mike could tell from the cryptic answer she wasn't ready to open up. Instead he asked her, "who kept calling you?"

" _Ohhh,_ " she sighed, leaning forward and pulling out yet another cigarette. She offered the pack to Mike who gratefully took one. It was a shitty habit he'd picked up in prison, but he felt he could use one about now. She kept the cigarette between her lips while she mumbled, "just this guy I kinda was seeing." Sam struck the match and lit hers before offering the same courtesy to Mike.

"He seemed… _pretty_ pissed."

"Yeah. Yeah he did. I kinda… stole his car," she said through a wince. Mike's eyes grew large and panic shot through him.

"Are you _kidding_ me, Sam? I _just_ got out of prison, I can't be riding around in a stolen car-" She laughed again, a lot more heartily this time. He _was_ starting to think she was insane about now.

" _Reee-_ lax. He bought it _for_ me. My name is on the registration, you can check yourself."

"What happened then?"

"His wife found out," she shrugged simply. "So... that was that."

"Oh… _well_ then."

"You talk to Jessica anytime recently?" she asked brazenly, and he felt like he got a punch to the gut. He wasn't expecting that.

"No…" he muttered, running a hand through his hair and resting it behind his neck. "Not since before she moved back to Kansas." He was scared to ask, but couldn't stop himself, " _you?_ "

Sam took a long drag, pulling her knees up to her chest and nodded.

"Yeah," she exhaled. "I mean, not _recently_. But briefly. A few years ago. I guess she's got a kid now."

Mike had no idea how he felt about that. About _her._

Jess had come to visit him a few times when he was in prison but... it was just too hard. For both of them. He couldn't expect her to hang around, waiting for him. It wasn't fair. She was dealing with surgeries and lawsuits and… it was all just too much.

Jess was gone. But Sam... Sam was _here._

"Thank you, Sam. For coming to get me…" Mike said, barely above a whisper. He took in the gentle curves of her soft, tired face. She still looked so much like the girl he used to know, but different somehow. There was an inert sadness in her he'd never thought he'd ever see. Perhaps they were all a little broken.

Before he could stop himself, he found himself cupping her cheek and leaning in towards her. At first he thought she might be leaning in too, but instead she quickly moved away from him.

" _Jesus_ , Mike! What the hell!?" she scolded, hopping off the hood of her car and running her fingers through her long, thick locks and gripping.

" _Sam_ -" he began, really kicking himself for trying anything with her. He felt like a moron - why would he ever think that was a good idea? Old habits sure die hard. "I-I didn't mean-"

"I just…" she huffed out a breath, trying to settle enough to explain herself. Her arms dropped limply to her sides. "I can't keep putting myself into these situations, Mike."

"I'm sorry-"

"No. _I'm_ sorry. But I _can't_ keep _doing_ stuff like this-" Mike jumped off the car and walked towards her, pressing his palms down on her shoulders to calm her down.

"Sam, Sam. You didn't do anything wrong. It was me. I shouldn't have done that. It was stupid." Her eyes asked him why he did that - he wasn't even entirely sure, besides the fact that it had been a long, long time for him. "I just got kinda caught up in the moment and then we were talking about Jessica…" his words trailed off when he couldn't seem to read her face. "I _promise_ I won't do it again. But… can't blame a guy for trying, right?" Sam's face softened and she gave him a coy smile.

"Yeah, well…" She moved from beneath his hands and leaned her back against the car, "it _didn't_ work when you tried it in High School, it's not gonna work now." Mike's head fell back as he chuckled at the memory. He jutted a thumb out in her direction as he leaned against the car beside her.

"Well, that's _only_ because _you_ were in love with Josh."

A strange, uncomfortable silence rested heavily between them, their smiles both subsiding. Mike regretted saying the name just by the way it made her face twist, almost pained.

"I'm sorry," he spit out quickly, once again finding himself apologizing.

"No… it's okay..." she chuckled without humor. "I just - _Wow._ I haven't heard that name in a long time. I had no idea it was going to make me feel... this way..." Mike noticed the way she pressed her hand against her heart as she said that, as though it actually hurt.

"I _wish_ I hadn't heard that name in a long time," Mike said under his breath, and Sam just stared at him questioningly. Her eyes seemed to say so many things her lips couldn't. "My cellmate had his book. And they used to show some of his lectures in the common room. It's like I couldn't escape the guy." Sam stared off, absently playing with the charm of her necklace now.

"Hmm… good for him." Something about the way she spoke so softly made Mike think she already knew this. She was out in the real world all this time - she _had_ to know how successful Josh had become.

"Leave it to Josh Washington to go off and profit from our pain, eh?" he tried lightly. Sam slid back onto the hood of the car. She took in a deep breath, her mind a million miles away as she gazed out at the stars over the canyon.

"Did you read it?" she asked, referring to Josh's book.

"I hate to say I started it. But then I stopped."

"Why?"

"Honestly… it made too much sense. I _actually_ found myself sympathizing for the guy. And I don't think I'm ready to forgive him yet. He might not have pulled the trigger, but… he was definitely a catalyst."

"I think I know what you mean," she whispered. And something in her eyes told Mike that was true. Sam turned to him, jingling the keys in her hand. "C'mon. Let's go find a motel for the night," she suggested, and Mike raised his eyebrows. "With _two_ beds," she clarified, holding up two fingers and poking him in the forehead.

Mike laughed, "alright, alright."

It had been a long time since he'd laughed this much… and something told him it had been a long time since she'd laughed, too.

* * *

_**Christopher Bennett - New York - JFK Airport - February, 2025** _

"Where is the bathroom? _Wo ist die Toilette?"_ the thick, German accent spoke into Chris' headphones as he exited the airplane, navigating to busy terminals of JFK.

"Woo eest die toilet?" he clumsily repeated. He turned up the volume on his phone to drown out the noise of the crowd. _German For Dummies_ continued to play. He had 48 hours to learn an entirely new language, and so far he was _nailing it_.

"Good Job!" the instructor praised him.

"Thanks…" Chris smirked to nobody. He made his way through the bustle of the airport, trying to find his connecting flight on the monitors hanging up overhead.

"How much is that? _Wiel veil ist das?_ "

"Wi-eel ve-eel eest dos?" he butchered once more.

Instead of more positive affirmations from the German instructor, however, came the unnerving sound of his phone ringing. Chris jumped with a startle, nearly dropping his phone from his already full hands. He juggled it like a hot potato for a few seconds before answering.

"What, yes, hello?" he rattled off, a little bit flustered.

"I've tried calling you like thirty times!" Josh exclaimed on the other end. "What's the deal?" Leave it to Josh to assume his best friend simply lived for his next call. Chris rubbed his forehead and checked his watch.

"Sorry, man. I was on a red-eye."

"Why _now_?"

"Uhhh… I have to be back home in Tokyo by tomorrow for a meeting. Then Germany on Thursday." Chris found his flight location on the screen and started towards the Delta Airlines vestibule. He tripped over a stroller, then nearly elbowed an old lady in the face. "Why?" he grunted, "w-what's up?"

"Oh, nothing, just… I kinda need a favor," Josh said and Chris could sense his apprehension.

"Uh, calling thirty times isn't really a 'nothing' favor now, is it?" Chris countered.

"Good point. Umm… I guess I'll just come out with it then…"

"I'm listening," Chris nudged. He didn't have the heart to tell his friend he only had to capacity to give him partial attention as he made his way through the airport.

"I was thinking about, you know… reaching out."

"You're gonna need to be a little more specific than that," Chris told him, only to hear Josh sigh heavily on the other line. "Reaching out to who?" Before Josh could answer, it was as though a lightbulb went off over Chris' head. "Wait, you mean, like, reaching out to… our _friends?_ "

"Can you really still call them that? It _has_ been ten years…" Josh droned under his breath. "When's the last time you caught up with Matt?" he quipped, rhetorically.

"You mean… li-like _Ashley_?" Chris asked, his voice cracking. He coughed to clear his throat. "And the rest of them?"

"Yeah. I just… I feel like maybe it's time."

Chris sucked the air through his teeth, rubbing the back of his neck. He could already feel the hives beginning to form. He was hot and itchy.

"Are you _sure_ this is a good idea? I mean…. They all… _kinda_ hate you."

"No, obviously I'm not _sure._ But… I just thought, you know, maybe it would be good to at least try. For healing purposes-"

"I dunno, man. I think a lot of them have moved on. At this point would it really be healing or picking at old wounds?" Chris wondered. Josh was silent, and Chris knew this wasn't the answer he was looking for. "We could try, I guess," he finally relented after a moment. "What do you need me to do?

"I need to find them all, first. I need to find out what they're up to, get some incentive to get them to _actually_ see me."

"Yeah, I don't know if they'd really be up for a fun weekend on the mountain, if you know what I mean," Chris snorted, but caught himself quickly. He knew this was no joking matter for Josh. "I'll see what I can find out under one condition."

"And what's that?"

"...I don't want you to invite Ashley. I just… I don't know if I can handle that-"

"You got it," Josh said too quickly.

"I mean it, Josh."

"Chris, I wouldn't even know where to find her if I wanted to." Chris mulled it over a moment longer before heaving a long, surrendering sigh.

"Alright. _Fine_. I'll see what I can do. But I can't promise they'll want to come."

He still wasn't exactly stoked on the idea, but Josh was his best friend. He wasn't sure where everyone else was in their recovery, but he knew Josh still struggled every single day. Never being able to reach out and make things right with them had really worn on him. Of course he'd be there to help him through this.

That is… if anyone actually showed up.

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	4. Running - Ashley, Chris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Slight delay with this one, sorry. I've been super busy getting a panel ready for Comicon (I'm hosting Sexuality in Geek Culture at Wizard World) and then I uploaded a kickstarter to self-publish Monster in Me as an original novel:   
> https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1070037718/monster-in-me/community  
> Help make Monster in Me a success! You'll get a copy :)  
> Anyways, Next chapter will be out soon. And onto my bbys.

* * *

_**Ashley "AJ" Jo Smith - Portland, Oregon** _

"Why _blue?_ " Jonah asked, but Ashley could barely hear him with her head under the faucet as she rinsed her hair in the bathroom sink. Dark, purply-blue swirled around the drain.

"Why _not_ blue?" Ashley shouted back. She peeked over her shoulder and saw Jonah in the doorway of her bathroom, studying the kit from the home dye kit.

"But the red was so pretty on you…" he said mournfully. Ashley just laughed, watching as the water grew clearer and clearer before snapping off the faucet. She squeezed her wet hair in her palms, wringing the remaining blue water drop from the ends. She stood, wrapping an old towel around her head.

"Sorry to disappoint you but that red was 100% fake, buddy."

"I thought you said you were a natural redhead?!" Jonah was always so dramatic and animated. She might as well have told him she was an alien from another galaxy.

"I _am."_ Ashley squeezed by him through the doorway, heading to the kitchen to fetch her glass of wine and check on the pizza they had baking in the oven. She called out over her shoulder,"but I haven't seen my natural red in years."

She tried to recall how long it had been since she began dying her hair, but winced at the memory - every time her mind led her to Chris she was always slightly jolted. Like getting a papercut. Ashley had first dyed her hair right after she left Chris. As soon as she packed her bags, she immediately went to Sam's.

"I'm coming with you," Ashley announced, suitcase in hand. Sam was loading up her trunk with her own belongings. When Sam turned to her, Ashley nearly did a doubletake. The bags under her eyes were reminiscent of the luggage in her trunk: purple and swollen. Her hair was a frizzy mess. She had a bright, red lollipop in her mouth that she pulled out just long enough to say, "no, you're not."

"Yes… I _am_ ," she said with more determination before tossing her suitcase in next to Sam's. Sam folded her arms stubbornly, shifting her weight to her left hip. Her face never changed expression as she asked, "and what about Chris?"

Ashley's heart squeezed at the mention of his name, even then. At this point he didn't even know she was gone yet - he wasn't due to be home for another four hours. She tried to wrap her mind around how far she could be by then. Maybe even a whole timezone away.

"I… I left." That finally got a reaction from Sam. She raised her eyebrows in either curiosity or amusement - Ashley wasn't completely sure. "I left a note that explains everything I just… I can't be with him right now."

"W-w-wait. He doesn't _know?_ " Sam exclaimed, her eyes wide. Ashley meekly nodded after a moment. Sam grabbed onto Ashley's suitcase and hoisted it out of her trunk, dropping it on the concrete with a thud.

"Ooohh, no. _No_ way. I'm not going to be your _smuggler_ , Ashley!"

"Please! I- I don't know where else to _go_ , Sam! I need to get out of this god-forsaken town-"

"Yeah, well, _I_ don't need any stowaways-" She started back up the driveway to get the last of her things, but Ashley gripped onto her, desperately.

"Sam. _Please_."

Ashley didn't want to remind Sam of the last time she did a favor for her, back in that cold, sterile examination room. But as she stared Sam down and watched her expression change, Ashley could tell Sam was already remembering on her own. She nodded her head weakly in the direction of the car. Ashley knew better than to wear her welcome, so she silently lifted her bag back into the trunk and climbed into the passenger seat.

When Sam and Ashley had barely made it a few miles out of town, they stopped at a drugstore for a few snacks and things for the road. Ashley hurried along the aisles, trying to get everything quickly to keep up with Sam's momentum - Ashley had no idea what Sam was running away from, but she was moving so fast it was as if someone lit a fire under her feet.

Ashley faltered and then froze, her eyes trailing down row after row of hair dye boxes. After a few moments of contemplation, she grabbed the box of dark, chocolate brown, a pair of shades, and headed toward the front to meet Sam.

They headed north - where they were going, Ashley wasn't sure. She didn't ask and in all honesty, she wasn't sure she even cared. Anywhere far away where no one knew them as the "Blackwood Pines Survivors" would suffice. When Ashley first heard Sam was planning on running away she was just envious. But after her father died suddenly of a heart attack and Chris immediately proposed, she knew she had to come with her.

"Why'd you leave him?" Sam asked from her bed across the motel room once the girls had settled in. They'd stopped off at a motel called "The Moonshiner" in the middle of nowhere when they were too tired to drive any further. She picked at her Chinese food box, absently. Ashley couldn't deny the melancholy in her friend - it was almost painful to watch. What once had been a bright light in Sam had been smothered out and Ashley wasn't sure if she would ever be the same.

"Was it because of the proposal?" Sam pressed. Ashley sat up against the headboard of her bed.

"It... was because of a lot of things," Ashley replied quietly, giving a soft shrug. "He wanted so badly for us to just be happy. Wanted us all to just move on and accept what had happened and forgive but…" her words trailed off. Her heart ached and she already missed Chris so much but… she needed to get herself figured out. She couldn't be with him right now and if she had stayed she would have never been able to truly heal.

"Why are you running, Sam?" Ashley asked, more bold than she'd felt before. Sam sucked in a sharp breath.

"I'm not… running, _per se_..."

"Oh, you're running. Is it because Josh is coming home?" Sam's eyes instantly welled with tears and she folded her lips. She looked at Ashley, forcing a smile with glistening eyes that gave the insincerity away.

"I umm… I don't think I could ever face him," she told her simply. Ashley sat up, facing her friend.

" _No one_ will blame you for that, Sam. After what he did to you. And then the baby-"

"Your hair's probably done," Sam said abruptly, stopping Ashley short. Ashley's mouth was still agape, but she closed it, taking the hint that Sam didn't want to talk about it any longer.

When Ashley rinsed her hair that night, the cheap chocolate brown was actually more of a jet black. She was instantly filled with regret. Tears filled her eyes as she wondered, "what did you _do?_ "

And then it was, "what am I _doing_?"

After a few tears, a few moments of wallowing, Ashley began to laugh - softly at first, but then more heartily and maniacally. That was the moment that Ashley died, although she might as well have died up there on that mountain. Ashley didn't exist anymore, and neither did Ashley's problems or heartaches.

That was the moment that AJ was born.

And she was _free._

"Jonah! How do I look?" Ashley asked leaving the bathroom, a bright smile on her face. Her hair was dry now, curling around her shoulders. The dye had turned her hair to the most vibrant, shiny blue. Jonah cocked an eyebrow, his arms folded as he took in the sight.

"You look like fuckin' Coraline," he said flatly. While the tone didn't go unnoticed by Ashley, she was hardly offended.

" _Aw_ ," she chirped, her head tilted to the side. "She's cute. I'll take it."

Jonah just smirked and plopped down, swallowed up by her big, overstuffed couch and pulling out his phone to check his messages as Ashley admired herself in the living room mirror.

"Is that pizza ready or what?" Jonah wondered aloud, causing Ashley to nearly jump out of her skin.

"Shit! I totally forgot!" she uttered, her words following her in a frenzy toward the kitchen. She ripped the oven door open and there was the pizza… _more_ than a little crispy. Smoke floated around her, filling the kitchen and she felt her chest tighten.

_Smoke. Fire. Burning lodges._

The involuntary thoughts were pushed out of her head as she reached down and grabbed the pizza from the oven, dropping it on the counter in utter defeat. It was charred, but still edible. She sighed and began to cut away some of the burnt parts. Then she heard something from the other room that sent a chill down her spine.

It was a voice, a familiar one. She felt queasy and set down the knife, trying to hear what the voice was saying.

"... _Everyone_ has their demons. Those situations that have haunted them throughout the years. Those secrets they just shove in a closet and plan to tend to later, but never do. I did that for years and years, just hoping those monsters in my closet would see _themselves_ out." Ashley crept to the living room, peeking around the corner to see Jonah still on the couch, intently watching a video on his phone. "But in these situations, you have to face those monsters. You have to battle them to the death, otherwise they will never go away. Ever."

Jonah's eyes flickered over to her and he jumped a bit in his seat. He clutched his heart dramatically, "Jesus, AJ! You scared the hell outta me. What are you doing creeping over in the corner?" he laughed.

"What are you watching?" Ashley mumbled back, her throat tightening around each word. Jonah sat up a bit, pausing the video.

"Oh, it's just this video. TEDtalk with this guy, Josh Washington. He's kinda like this self-help guru. Have you seen it? It's been _all_ over my newsfeed. People keep sharing it-"

"Could you turn it off?" she said, far sharper than she meant to. Jonah's brow furrowed in confusion and he let out an uncomfortable chuckle.

"Um… ' _kay_. What's your problem? He an ex boyfriend or something?" His laughter tapered off when Ashley's face remained serious. "Fine, alright. _Jeeze_. You're so weird sometimes..."

"What!? _I'm_ weird? _How_?" Ashley asked indignantly, her hands on her hips. Jonah stood quickly, matching her exact stance.

"Uh, you _never_ want to go to my cousin's cabin in Mount Hood, for one. Actually, you never want to go _anywhere._ You _never_ talk about yourself-"

"I do, too!"

"No, AJ, you don't. I've known you almost a whole year now and know literally nothing about you. Except that you like books. O-or that you want to be a writer. And that your mom face-times you once a week on Friday nights at approximately 8pm-"

And as if the universe were in on some kind of inside joke, Ashley's cell phone began buzzing. Jonah stared at her smugly. Ashley narrowed her eyes, not yet ready to surrender. She reached down and snatched up her phone - sure enough it was her mom. And it was just slightly past 8pm. Ashley punched the accept button, but not before plastering on her most convincing smile.

"Hey mom! How's it going?"

"What did you do!" her mother gasped. Ashley patted her hair insecurely.

"Oh this?"

"Ashley Jo Smith, God graced you with the most _beautiful_ red hair, I don't know _why_ you insist on covering it all up!" Ashley began to roll her eyes but stopped herself when she remembered that her mom could see her.

"How's everything over there?" Ashley asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, you know… Same ol' same ol'..."

"Mom?" Ashley asked, noticing the hesitation in her mother's voice. "You okay? What's going on over there?" Ashley's mother sighed, holding up an envelope.

"You… You got another one. First one in a while, actually."

Ashley's mouth ran dry, her eyes growing wet. She turned away from Jonah a bit, lowering her voice but she knew it was no use. He was already completely engaged in what she was doing.

"Um…" Ashley stammered, her hand finding her forehead apprehensively. "D-did you open it?"

Ashley knew exactly what it was: a letter from Chris. He'd steadily sent her letters, on and off, since the day she left him. Once she'd deleted all social media accounts and blocked his phone number he'd relented to trying to contact her the last way he knew how: at her mother's house.

"I did," her mom said quickly, "he said this is the last one." She flipped the envelope over a few times, and Ashley could see how tattered it was. "It was postmarked two months ago. I'm not sure what happened to it, it looks like it's seen better days."

"Is that all it said?"

"Do you want me to read-"

"No!" Ashley exclaimed, calming herself when she realized how insane she must look to Jonah. "No, mom, that's okay." She hadn't read any of them, merely asked her mom to give her very brief, very short bullet points. Even to this day the thought of hearing from Chris made her heart race and her hands shaky. After everything she'd done to him…

Fearing she may cry, she hurriedly told her mother she had company and that she loved her but she'd call her later. The silence when she got off the phone was deafening. She had her back to Jonah but could feel his eyes leering into her.

"Ashley?" Jonah said quietly, "your name is _Ashley_?" Ashley wiped away the water from her eyes before she turned to face him, giving him a shrug.

"Yeah? _So_? A lot of people don't go by their first name-" She had to admit that it felt good to have someone other than her mother call her by her real name. It felt like it had been forever.

"This is what I'm talking about. I didn't even know your real name. You keep everyone at a distance. Aren't you lonely? Don't you realize how unhealthy that is?"

"Oh, you watch _half_ of one TEDtalk and suddenly you're an expert, Jonah?" Ashley snapped. "I'm sorry… that was rude." Jonah's face softened and he sat on the couch.

"Who are you? What are you running from?"

The memory of her asking Sam the same question in that shoddy, old motel room played again in her mind like a loop. Was she really going to spend the rest of her life avoiding who she really was? What had happened to her? Or worse - what she'd done to Chris?

"I'm a Blackwood Pines Survivor, okay?" she said, and as soon as she did she felt a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. Jonah didn't seem to catch the reference, so she sighed and continued, "back in 2015 me and a group of friends were on Mount Washington and we were all terrorized by-" she stopped, catching her breath. She hadn't talked about it in so long she didn't even know _how_ to explain it to him. She dropped down beside him, curling up on her couch.

"It was pretty big in the news…" She could see his face change as he began piecing it together.

"You mean that story about those teenagers? And one was shot?" he asked. She nodded silently.

"Josh Washington was one of those survivors, too," she told him in a daze. "That guy you were just watching. He was… he was actually part of the reason why everything happened that night. We went up to support him. To…" She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"AJ, I-I'm sorry. I didn't know. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want-"

"No," she said in almost a whisper, "call me Ashley."

* * *

_**Chris Bennett - Tokyo, Japan** _

_Login: Enter Username_

"Uhhh… _shiiiit_ ," Chris muttered aloud. He'd probably had thirteen new email addresses over the last ten years and for the life of him, he could not recall which one he used to log in to facebook, back in the day.

He mulled on it for a few moments before quickly typing out his old gmail handle: _ForChrisSakes_ , which he felt was oh-so-clever back then). He was pleasantly surprised to see it worked on the first try. He raised his fist in victory. He almost likened himself to a vigilante computer hacker, but his smile faded fast.

The first thing he noticed after logging in was his profile's default photo: Ashley. They were standing together outside of a Thai restaurant, their favorite one. Ashley had her arms around his waist as he pressed a kiss into her hair.

Even then, there was such a sadness in her smile he'd never noticed at the time, and it made his stomach churn. That particular photo and all the stinging memories being the first thing to welcome him back was so alarming he almost slammed his laptop shut. Instead he took a deep breath, swallowed down the nausea, and clicked somewhere else.

' _How are you even supposed to_ find _old friends on this site now?_ ' he wondered. He began to wander the site like a ghost town. People he recognized from high school still posted sometimes, albeit sparsely. Their photos had veered from college parties to weddings to full, happy families… he shook off the feeling of envy and trudged through.

He went to the search box, starting off with Sam.

Her profile hadn't been touched in _years_ \- right after Mount Washington, aside from one last status update before she ran off: " _be careful when trying to fix broken people. you might cut yourself on their shattered pieces."_

Other than that, there was nothing. No sign of what she was doing or where she might be. Chris still felt a tinge of anger towards Sam for taking Ashley with her when she left, but he stuffed it down. He had to let these things go or they would eat him up forever.

One thing that struck him was the "Emily Stanford Memorial Page" that Sam had liked shortly before she went AWOL. Chris swallowed and braced himself, clicking on the link.

No amount of bracing himself could prepare him for the way seeing Emily's smiling face would make him feel. How could he forget about her? She was so much more than she seemed, and she was gone.

He continued to scroll, timidly, nervously. As though he were carefully treading shark infested waters. He saw a news article posted to the memorial page by Emily's mother: "Michael Munroe, son of prestigious Lawyer David Munroe, nearing end of 10-year-sentence for Manslaughter." Her caption read, 'This makes me sick.'

Chris closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He remembered that moment so vividly. He was so shaken by watching the old man get killed in front of him, he didn't do anything to stop it. _Why_ didn't he stop him? Now Emily was dead and Mike lived with her blood on his hands for the rest of his life.

One thing Chris underestimated was how emotionally draining this mission was going to be. Still, he kept going. Down a little further he found a familiar name: Jessica Stein. She posted on the wall a few years ago, and all it said was, "I'm sorry."

Chris clicked her profile and saw she was in Little River, Kansas. She barely posted, but there were a few photos of her and her son. He could gather from some of her posting that she was a single mom - no mention of a father. She looked different - and not just aged just softer, somehow. Tired.

Chris jerked at the sound of his phone, Chris looked at the clock: 11 pm. There was only one person it could be at this hour.

"Hey," Chris answered, his voice hoarse. He didn't even realize the lump in his throat until he tried to speak. He cleared it, repeating, "hey there."

"How's it goin?" Josh yawned. It was only 9 am in New York.

"Not too bad," Chris said, even though he actually felt terrible.

"How's the search going? Find anything interesting?"

"Uhhh…" Chris clicked off the screen, lowering the browser altogether so he didn't have to look at it while he talked to Josh. "I found Jess. She's back in Kansas. She's got a kid. I don't really think there's a dad in the picture-"

"Single mom, huh?" Josh mumbled, and Chris could tell his mouth was full from the muffled sound of it. "She could probably use some money. I'll offer her some money. That will get her to come, don't you think?" Chris didn't answer, having been interrupted in the first place. He moved on to what else he'd just found out.

"And I don't know if you heard or not, but I guess Mike just got out-"

"He's gonna need some money, too," Josh deduced, all too quickly. Chris sighed exasperatedly, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He was already starting to get a headache.

"Oh, oh yeah? A-and what about Sam? Just gonna throw money at her too?" he found himself snapping, even though he didn't mean to. Sometimes things Josh said and did got under his skin… but that was just part of being a best friend, _right_?

" _Whoooa_. Easy there, Cochise. What's gotten _you_ all worked up?" Josh said, more amused than offended. "I thought you liked all this computer research stuff-"

"Not when you're making me sift through the wreckage of our friends, man. The first thing I saw when I got on Facebook was that pic of me and Ashley and-" He stopped. He'd already said enough and he was just getting himself even more worked up. It wasn't Josh's fault. He was the one who agreed to help him. "I just… I didn't know pulling all this up would make me feel this way. That's all. I'm fine."

"It can be a cathartic experience, if you let it-" Josh started, but it just seemed to irritate Chris even more.

"Then why aren't _you_ doing it, Josh? Why are you making me do the dirty work? And quit talking to me like I'm one of your damn followers. It's like I don't even know who you are anymore."

There was a long silence on the other line and Chris found himself feeling guilty. He knew it was probably even harder for Josh to track everyone down that it was for him. He was probably terrified of what he might find if he did. Everyone's lives had changed after that night.

"I-I'm sorry," Chris murmured.

"Why don't you fly out here and we'll do it together?" Josh suggested. "Plus we can hang out, catch up. I'm sure you could use the break-"

"I'm just too busy for that right now-" Chris said, but it was another lie. He was actually in between projects right now. He wasn't sure _why_ he lied - maybe he was scared?

"Then I'll come to you. You're right. You shouldn't have to do this alone. We can do it together. Bros for life, _amiright_?" Chris found himself grinning at the silly concept. _Bros for life_. Something dumb they always used to say growing up. He hadn't heard it in a long time.

"You know you wanna…" Josh taunted.

"I guess it'd be kinda cool to visit for a bit," Chris relented.

"Great. I'm booking you a ticket. How soon can you get here?"

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	5. Alone - Josh, Sam

**The Fall Out:**

_An Until Dawn Fanfiction_   
****

* * *

**Chapter Five:**

_Alone_

_-Josh, Sam-_

* * *

**_A/N:  This is a pretty Josh/Sam-heavy chapter. I’m not even sorry._ **

* * *

 

**_Joshua Washington - New York City, New York_ **

It was the same nightmare he’d had a million times, only this time he awoke gasping for air as though a demon had been sitting on his chest while he slept. He shot up in bed, frantically feeling around for another body, but there was no one was there.

The existential crisis began to take hold of Josh’s mind. He was alone.

_Alone, alone alone._

“ _Everything's fine, everything’s okay_ ,” he reminded himself as he pawed at his nightstand in the dark, finally finding his lamp and switching it on. The bright light painted shadows around his room, which was a little alarming at first, but then brought on an instant comfort. He never did like the dark.

Despite reminding himself that the dream wasn’t real, his heart was thumping hard in his chest and his face was clammy. He’d always hoped that time would make the nightmares subside, but they still came. Less than they used to, but they always came.

It wasn’t so much a nightmare tonight as it was a memory. And it started out how it _always_ did - down, do _wn, down_ in the mines.

Josh remembered very little about what happened to him that night. The last thing he _really_ recalled was Sam’s warm, green eyes staring up at him in concern - even after everything he’d done to her. Like she still cared about him.

Or, maybe she just wanted the keys to the cablecar.

_No. It was the first one._

Those eyes haunted him more than _any_ monster ever could. In that moment, they still held onto some kind of softness for him. _Relief_.

“We didn’t think we’d getcha back,” she’d said to him. But it sounded garbled and underwater. He wanted to reach out to her and hold her, cling onto her and bury his face in her hair. He knew from experience it smelled of lavender - he’d found himself tangled within it before. Maybe if Mike hadn’t been there, he would have.

Because she _came_ for him. Maybe she even loved him, then.

Or, maybe she just wanted the keys to the cablecar.

_Fuck._

Ten years. Countless lectures. Endless therapy. And these thoughts still kept him awake at night. He thought he’d be passed this, by now. After all, wasn’t his entire empire built on overcoming trauma? He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to have regrets.

“ _Regrets get in the way of your healing - they are like having hindsight as a superpower: useless during a time of crisis and in no way does it change the past_.”

He’d said that. In his book. People lived by what he said. And yet he was beginning to fear he was incapable of following his own advice. But, his brain never really worked properly when it came to Sam.

The biggest regret Josh ever had was never getting the chance to say sorry to her. The second biggest regret was never getting the chance to say goodbye before she vanished from his life.

The last time he saw Sam was a few days after he’d been rescued. He’d been heavily monitored, and mostly sedated, for those days. He had asked the police officer watching over him if it was really necessary to keep him handcuffed to the bar of his hospital bed - he’d been so doped up he doubted he’d make it farther than his hospital room door before collapsing altogether. The officer’s lack of reaction gave him the only answer he needed.

He’d spent a lot of those days in a fog, trying to remember. And then as every fragment of what he’d done slowly slipped back into his mind, he hated himself more and more.

But above all that… he was alone. His biggest fear, to be left alone and forgotten, had come true. No one came to see him. No one cared about the boy who’d ruined their lives.

Until the day Sam came.

She hovered in the doorway, her face still bruised and parts of her still bandaged from everything she’d endured. She had a small butterfly bandaid on her forehead.

She still looked beautiful.

But he never told her that.

“Sammy,” his voice croaked. He sounded far too hopeful, especially with the grave look on her face.

“Why would you do something so awful to me?” she asked simply. He wanted so badly for her to come further into the room, but she stayed so far away. That soft warmness he’d seen in the mines was gone. The light behind her eyes had flickered out. She’d never looked at him that way before.

 _He_ did this.

“You hate me,” he cried. Broken, empty sobs that might have even been sincere; sometimes he wasn’t sure he ever had any real emotions at all. But this certainly felt real. He knew that Sam never really knew for sure with him. At least, not anymore. She’d been fooled too many times before.

“No,” she choked, quickly blinking away tears. She chuckled out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “The sick part is I actually think I love you.” The words cut through him like a knife. And then, she twisted it, “And it terrifies me.”

His crying stopped abruptly and he stared at her with wide eyes. He could read her like a book, knew exactly what she was thinking. She didn’t say it now, but she’d said it to him before: _“How can you always turn your emotions on and off like a lightswitch?”_

He never knew how to answer that, back then. He wouldn’t know how to answer it now. Maybe he was a sociopath. Maybe just sick. One thing was for sure: she’d never trust him ever again. And he couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

“I… I never meant to hurt you, Sam _m-_ ”

“But you did.” She cut him off before he could get her whole petname out. _Sammy_ wasn’t here, anymore. He knew it used to make her feel special when he called her that - he knew that just by the way she wouldn’t let anyone else call her that but him. Now it was just a reminder that some broken things can’t ever be fixed. A reminder of everything that was lost.

“You’re the only one who has come here, you know,” he said, wiping his nose with his sleeve. His eyes slowly crept to her face, but didn’t connect with hers. He rolled a shoulder, “not even Chris.”

“Well, I’m not staying.”

“Oh,” he breathed. He nodded absently, even though the thought of her leaving him there again, leaving him alone, made the knot in his stomach tighten. It was the hardest thing in the world to tell her, “I understand.”

“I just came to say…” she bit her bottom lip, once again combating the tears in her eyes. Her head fell forward and she shook it, staring at her hands because it was too hard to look at him. “When I was really little, my grandma was dying. I didn’t really understand death at that time, but I knew it meant I would never get to see her again…”

Josh watched her shift her weight on her feet. She was nervous. Broken, somehow. He wanted to fix it, to fix her, but he didn’t know how.

Her voice grew shakier as she continued, “we… we were just waiting outside of her bedroom for them to let us in one or two at a time. I was five. It felt like we were out there waiting forever. And even then there was so much sadness in my heart because for some reason I knew… I knew they were only letting me in to say goodbye. I was never going to see her again or hug her or hear her stories…”

“Sam-” he tried. She wrapped her arms around herself, almost as though she were comforting herself. He wanted nothing more than to be able to do that for her.

She still couldn’t look at him as she said with a sob in her throat, “I feel like I’m mourning you and you’re not even dead.”

“Sam, I’m right here,” he told her, sitting up in his hospital bed as much as he could. “I swear, Sam. I will _never_ hurt you-”

“I never want to see you again, Josh,” she told him with quiet determination. Her eyes finally flickered up to his. She looked at him once more, the coldness in her vacant, empty stare sending almost making him shudder.

This was not the Sam he once knew. He _broke_ her.

“ _Sam,_ ” he said again, his throat on fire. His eyes were teary, real ones this time. He wasn’t above begging at this point. “Sam, _please_ wait-”

Then he saw it, the single tear she allowed herself to shed over him, rolling down her cheek. For a second it seemed as though she had something else to say, but didn’t. She wiped the lone tear away.

“The worst part is… I will probably always love you,” she said, her voice sounding distant and far away. He wanted to say something. Anything to change her mind. He wanted to tell her he loved her too, that he always had. That he didn’t know why he did what he did to her. That he was sick, but he’d get better. He’d be better for her. She looked at him one last time, her voice cracking as she told him, “but I will _never_ forgive you.”

As she turned to leave him for the very last time, he realized that was true for both of them: he’d never forgive himself.

 

Josh couldn’t go back to sleep. This was happening more and more since he’d broached the reunion to Chris. Now his mind wouldn’t stop wandering, rehashing things he’d long buried. It wasn’t even his plan. When his manager came to him with the grand idea to get everyone from the Blackwood Pines incident together, he never realized it was going to stir up so many memories - so many _feelings_.

For him, it was uncovering every single demon he’d pretended to overcome. For his manager, it was fodder for another best-selling book. How could he say no to that? He could just hear the news headlines now: ‘ _Joshua Washington seeks redemption among those he wronged._ ’

Or, at least, something along those lines.

He dragged his tired feet to the bathroom, instantly rummaging around in the medicine cabinet for something to take the edge off… or at least quiet his chaotic mind. There were countless pill bottles, although he wasn’t on them all. Over the years he’d had a lot of doctors, and they all had a different idea of what exactly he needed to be a functioning part of society.

But he wasn’t looking for something like that, right now.

He needed something that was going to slip him into a comfortably numb state as quickly as possible. He hadn’t felt that craving for a _long_ time.  

As he reached for the metal “mint” container on the bottom pier, he hated himself. He ran his thumb across the top as he held it in his hand, popping it open. Thirty or forty, round, white little pills stared back at him. It had been a long time since he’d needed one… but he always knew they were here, just in case. There was a time he was all too dependent on these guys.

When he’d fallen - or was carried? He couldn’t recall anymore - down into the mines, he’d really torn up his shoulder, so much so he needed surgery when they found him. That was the first time he’d been introduced to Oxycontin. And at first, it was for the pain.

Then, he grew to like the way it made him feel. Maybe a little too much. Itchy and sleepy, but totally numb. More than any of those other meds ever did for him, anyway. It reminded him of the morphine or other sedatives they used to give him in the hospital. But with Oxy he could walk around and live his life - they didn’t flatten him out quite as much.

He took two into his without thinking, without remembering just how dependant on them he once was. They rested on his tongue a moment, while he still had the chance to spit them out. Staring at his own reflection, he swallowed.

 _‘You’re living a lie,’_ his mind hissed. It sounded a lot like Sam, although he could barely remember her voice anymore.

Angry at himself for more reasons than he could count, Josh punched the reflection in the mirror. He looked down at his bloodied knuckles, then back up to the broken glass. He watched it splinter off into countless eyes staring back at him full of judgement and disdain.

 

* * *

**_Samantha Jensen - Somewhere outside of Las Vegas, Nevada_ **

Sam stared at the ceiling, listening to Mike softly snore in the other bed. She mindlessly twirled the charm on her necklace over and over and over again. She glanced sideways. The angry, red numbers on the clock beside her read 5:03 am; she’d been wide awake since around 3.

Realizing there was no use pretending like sleep was going to come for her, she quietly got out of her bed. Sam tiptoed over to the balcony, sliding the door open and slipping out. The blue, morning chill was a refreshing welcome as she plopped down in the cold, plastic chair. She ran her fingers through her long, knotted up hair and rested her head on her knees. Her brain felt like it was throbbing inside her skull from being so tired and over-thinking. She unhinged her jaw, massaging the side of her mouth where she felt the strain of clenching her teeth the last few hours.

Mike had been out for about a week now, and she was running low on money. She knew that soon, maybe in the next day or so, she needed to make the long drive home to her mom’s house.

Maybe home would be a nice change. Maybe she was tired of running. Lord help her, she was scared, though. Scared to face a lot of things she’d left behind. She knew Mike was, too. But she’d be lying if she said his mere resurgence in her life hadn’t flooded her with a million, microscopic memories that had wormed their way into her brain. She found herself wondering about Ashley, Chris, Matt… she found herself missing Emily, Hannah, Beth…

_...Josh._

She hated that she still thought about him - although, she hadn’t in some time. She’d steadily kept herself distracted with travel, booze and meaningless flings over the years. And yet… having her friend Mike back only made her realize what she’d known deep down in the darkest part of her mind: she was _lonely_.

Before Sam left town years ago, she’d been driving herself insane over Josh. She found out about the baby not long before he’d gotten rescued from the mines. She waited a few days to try to figure out how she felt about it all, but when she got the courage up to visit him she knew right away: she never wanted to see him again. It was so hard to keep herself from going back on that, too. He was her best friend and so much more.

When Beth and Hannah were missing, he would call her in the middle of the night, just to hear her voice or tell her a story. Her phone would violently vibrate on the nightstand and she’d groggily reach for it, giving him an exhausted, “ _heyyyy_ ,” that was usually muffled by her pillow.

“Did I ever tell you the story about the time Hannah, Beth and I were in New Mexico and got our palms read by a gypsy with one eye?”

He had. Twice. But Sam didn’t care.

“No,” she’d yawn. “But please, tell me that one…” She’d just lay there, sometimes for hours, listening to him talk, even when he didn’t have much to say.

“You’re always there for me. I don’t deserve you,” he’d tell her, sadly. But being there for Josh wasn’t hard then, and having him share in her grief was just as important to her as it was to him.

And then, after that night in 2015, it was all gone. No more late night calls. No more whispered conversations in the wee hours of morning. No more impromptu slumber parties. It was over. And she felt like she had no one.

After losing Hannah, Beth and then Josh all in a year, she really _didn’t_.

Having him away at Oceanside made it easier at first, but as the days loomed closer and closer to his homecoming, Sam snapped. She packed up all her things and left before she had a chance to ever be ensnared in his web again. Because for some reason, she’d always been weak when it came to Josh. He knew that. He used it a lot.

Sam always knew Josh was… _different_. He wasn’t like other boys she’d met, there was something so much more wise and worldly about him, regardless of how goofy or strange he could be. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, although it all made sense, now. He was an old soul - and, apparently, a tortured one as well. The time she really saw a glimpse into just how dark he could be was the one of the many times she’d gone up to the mountain.

She had barely turned 17, and the ten teenagers were running rampant around the giant, sprawling lodge. It was really late and everyone was pretty far gone when Josh suggested they play “Hide and Seek” in the dark. Of course Hannah and Beth blew him off immediately - _years_ of creepy “Hide and Seek” with Josh had taken its toll on the twins. Everyone else groaned in agreement.

But Sam bravely declared, “I’ll do it!” Josh cocked an eyebrow, his hand moving thoughtfully to his chin. 

“ _Hmm…_ ” he murmured as he looked her up and down, circling her. Sam chuckled nervously under his intense gaze.

“ _What?_ ”

“I dunno… I’m not sure you’d be able to handle it. You’re like a tiny, little woodland creature-”

“Oh, shush it,” Sam rolled her eyes, her hands defensively shooting to her hips. “I think I can manage _just_ fine. And you’re not that scary, Josh.”

“Oh, ho- _ho!_ ” He laughed mockingly, “Is that a _challenge?_ ”

Sam huffed out her chest and stuck out her chin, “maybe.”

“I _dunnoooo_ ,” he said again, tauntingly.

“Oh, would you two just _shut up_ and get a room already?” Emily quipped from the couch, her head falling back into a cushion.

“What!” Sam said, turning her narrowed gaze toward her friend. “What does that mean?”

“We _know_ you guys make out behind the library. Chris already told us,” Jess chimed in, and Sam felt the blood rush to her cheeks as her eyes snapped to Josh’s. He was too busy glaring at Chris to notice.

“Nice, man,” Josh shot sarcastically in Chris’ direction, “I’ll remember that next time _you_ have a secret.” Chris could only lazily shrug, too drunk to really defend himself.

“Sorry, dude.” He pointed accusingly toward Jessica. “Jess forced it outta me. She has a gift, what can I say…”

“I really do, you can’t blame him,” Jess nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Any compliment was okay with her, no matter what the context.

“Whatever,” Sam brushed off, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible. “We doin this or _what_ , Washington?”

“Only if I get to hide first,” his low voice drawled. “Better be careful, Sammy. I’m good at hiding.” He teasingly tiptoed his fingers up her spine on his way by. Sam just laughed and writhed her body away from him. “I know all the best spots.”

“One, _two…_ ”

“Close your eyes!” he demanded, his deep voice echoing around the big, open room. “Count to sixty! _No_ peeking.”

Sam snorted and covered her eyes with her hands, remaining where she stood, “... _three_ … four _…_ ” She heard the door to the basement slam. Assuming it was safe, she peeked through her fingers. Josh was gone so she uncovered her eyes and plopped down on the couch next to Emily and Mike.

“That should keep him busy for a while, dontcha think?” she smirked, shaking her head in a proud way.

“You’re _evil_ ,” Mike said.

“No I’m not. Didn’t you hear? I’m like a little, tiny woodland creature.”

The friends settled into conversation for a good five or so minutes before Hannah’s head popped up from her pillow on the ground, “are you just gonna leave my brother down there?” she half-giggled.

“Right, I almost forgot,” Sam giggled back. She stood reluctantly, giving a stretch. The slightest bit of fear hit her when she spotted the door to the basement. She turned back to the group, “anyone wanna come with me?”

“Oh no. No way. I’m not going down there,” Ashley piped up quickly. Sam should have expected that though; Ashley didn’t particularly love anything scary.

“Beth?” Sam tried.

“You got yourself into this mess. Sorry Sam.”

“You guys _suck_ ,” Sam groaned, turning away and heading down the stairs towards the door. She heard her friends laugh and call after her, variations of ‘good luck!’ and ‘nice knowin’ ya!’ She just snickered and shook her head.

“There’s a flashlight in the credenza!” Beth shouted to Sam’s back, and Sam was thankful for the tip. She opened the drawer closest to the basement door and saw a red flashlight rolling around. She grabbed it and clicked it on, at least feeling like she wasn’t going down into the basement completely helpless.

She heaved a sigh, opening the basement door and yelling down: “Ready or not, here I come!” Her words echoed back at her, weakly.

The basement was far darker than she had imagined, and much colder, too. She couldn’t tell if the shudder rippling down her spine was from fear or the temperature, but she pushed it out of her mind the farther she ventured down.

“Come out, come out, wherever you _are…_ ” she sang. There was no response, but her own voice was comforting to her in the dark dampness of the cellar. She stumbled over an empty box, nearly falling flat on her face against the concrete.

“ _Shit!_ ” she hissed, clutching her heart with her hand. She was breathing fast, shallow breaths until she got herself calmed down from the near-collision.

“Josh!” she yelled, suddenly very _done_ with this little game. “You win! You can come out, now!”

Sam froze as she heard a low, ominous sound from down a long hallway. She didn’t want to continue, but a part of her was actually kind of worried about Josh, even though she knew he could probably handle himself. She certainly didn’t want him back up all huffy about the fact that she left him down there.

She continued down the long hallway from where the noise had come to find an open door. She peeked inside and looked around, her flashlight landing on various objects in storage. Sam let out a groan.

“Stupid Josh and his stupid games,” she grumbled to herself, carefully walking in. “Josh?” she called out again, and when she received no response her heart rate increased. “Josh, I don’t wanna play, anymore. Let’s just go back to the group.” Still nothing. Eerie silence.

And then, “ _Saaaaammm_.” She heard a low voice growl. She knew he was messing with her, but she’d had enough. He’d called her bluff, she was too freaked out.

“I quit! I’m going back-” Sam turned back around, quickly heading back the way she came. When she rounded the corner and felt a hand snag her, whipping her around and slamming her against the concrete wall; it wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough force to absolutely terrify her. A gloved hand pressed hard against her collarbone, holding her steady while the other hand came up and cupped over her mouth, catching her scream.

Sam stared at the figure in fear, but it slowly subsided as she pieced together what was _actually_ happening. He had a mask on, a very familiar halloween mask - the same one Josh had worn a few years ago. She looked through the eyes of the mask, easily recognizing Josh’s stare back at her.

He removed his hand from her mouth, but his other stayed planted near her neck, holding her to the wall.

“You scared the shit outta me!” she finally breathed. His hand slid down a bit and rested just over her heart - she knew he could feel it thumping hard in her chest. He said nothing, but tilted his head to to side, his stare becoming more and more menacing.

“Josh, cut it out,” Sam said, the words almost caught in her throat. Still he said nothing, merely held up a very sharp gutting knife. In that moment, Sam couldn’t honestly say she wasn’t worried. She would have liked to believe Josh would never hurt her, but looking at his eyes through that mask, something seemed off. She wasn’t sure what it was then, but she was actually scared of him.

“Josh-” she started.

Sam flinched as he brought the knife down swiftly, hitting her right in the abdomen. She gasped, but then she felt nothing. She took a few seconds to process it before she smiled up at him deviously. As he slowly pulled the knife back, Sam watched the blade slide back out from the handle. It was a retractable knife. A prop. Plastic.

Josh raised his mask, smiling dangerously at her as he tapped her on the tip of the nose with the fake blade, “Gotcha.”

“You’re _such_ a jerk-” Sam huffed out, still chuckling at herself. She smacked the fake knife away and out of her face.

“I _scaaaared_ you,” he teased lowly, leaning his face down close to hers. Sam could feel his breath hitting her cheek.

“I wasn’t scared.”

“ _I win_ ,” he whispered into her lips, leaning into her kiss.

“You cheated,” Sam murmured against his mouth, but still wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself closer to him.

“Huh- _uh._ ”

Maybe it _was_ the danger in him she was drawn to. Maybe it was the darkness. She never really knew for sure, but even then she knew her heart was in trouble with this one.

 

Sam’s head jerked up when she heard Mike stumbling around in the motel room, cursing quietly to himself. After a few seconds he slid open the door, yawning and blinking away sleep from his eyes.

“What are you doin’ out here so early?” he asked, patting down his insane bedhead. Sam held up a cigarette and then put it out, answering his question.

“So… um…” he began, and her eyes fell back to him. He looked nervous. “I forgot to tell you yesterday. My mom said she got a really strange call.” He leaned against the doorframe, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. “Said it was from an old friend asking how he could get ahold of me.”

Sam just nodded, looking away from him and back out toward the sunrise. She immediately lit the tip of a second cigarette. She didn’t know why she felt so on edge - maybe because when she called her mom to check in a few days ago, there was a similar message waiting for her.

“Sam?”

“I got the same call.”

“Do you think it’s… do you think it’s _him?_ ”

Sam knew which ‘him’ Mike was referring to but no - Josh knew better than to call her mother. He would never do his own dirty work. He would leave that up to his lawyers or…

“No. I think it was Chris,” Sam said, hugging onto her knees and biting her thumbnail absently. “I mean, she said it sounded like Chris.”

“What do you think he wanted?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him since he called me and yelled at me for taking Ashley with me when I ran away.”

“Yeah… he was pretty torn up about that one, huh?” Mike concurred. Sam hated that memory. Chris was hysterical, and she couldn’t tell him anything. She’d never heard him so angry or hurt. But she couldn’t go against Ashley’s wishes. She owed her.

“Are… are you okay, Sam?”

She was crying. She couldn’t remember the last time she had really cried, save for that moment on the beach before she came to get Mike. All these memories and feelings were just getting worse the more she ran.

“Yeah,” she choked, wiping the wetness from her face. “Yeah it’s just…”

Mike came out, pulling up the other plastic chair and resting his hand on her knee caringly, “what? What is it?”

Her jem-toned eyes raised to meet his, “I want to go home.” Mike exhaled, leaning back in his chair as though she had taken a huge weight off his shoulders.

“Me too.”

* * *

 

_To Be Continued_

 

  


  


**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a project I've been working on for a while but have had a hard time getting off the ground. Hoping to have more up this week. We'll see! Read and review!


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